


Intruder Window

by BonitaBreezy



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint makes terrible decisions, Complete, First Meeting, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, One-Shot, Phil is weirdly cool about that, Phil's a cop, Pre-Relationship, especially when he's drunk, yes the title is a Doctor Who reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:36:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1613543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonitaBreezy/pseuds/BonitaBreezy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>alternative title: He's Climbin' in Your Windows</p>
<p>Clint gets drunk.  Clint breaks into Natasha's apartment to sleep it off.  Except it turns out that it's not Natasha's apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intruder Window

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr post: http://tickatocka.tumblr.com/post/85456038831/i-really-want-an-i-accidentally-broke-into-your  
> Unbeta'd because it's four am and I really can't be bothered.

The window slid open easily from the outside, and Clint was thankful that Natasha had left it unlatched for once.  He wasn’t actually sure he’d be able to manage jiggling the latch open with his pocket knife like he usually did tonight.  He was a bit too drunk for that, as was made evident by the way he stumbled over the window sill on his way in.  He was usually a bit more graceful than that.

The room was dark, but Clint had stumbled into it in a drunken stupor hundreds of times before, so he didn’t worry about getting out his phone to light the way to the couch.  He could walk the path in his sleep.  That’s why it was kind of surprising when he banged his leg on the sharp corner of a coffee table that definitely hadn’t been there yesterday.  He grumbled under his breath, too tired to really question it.  Once he found the couch and chased the two cats slumbering on the cushions off, he pulled off his Chucks, which was actually kind of hard because he was too drunk to figure out how untie the laces, shucked his t-shirt, and promptly passed out.

* * *

 

Clint groaned loudly when he woke up to the sun filtering in through the blinds and directly into his face.  He turned his head, making it pound unbearably, and pushed his face into the back cushions of the couch.  He sighed softly when it helped block out the light, and tried to focus on waking his brain up slowly.  He could smell coffee and bacon grease, which both delighted him and turned his stomach at the same time.  He was considering braving the harsh light of the sun to go get some coffee when a loud voice split his skull in half.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”  He groaned loudly again, and it took him a long moment to realize that he’d been asked a question by a voice he didn’t recognize.  He turned his head again and cracked one eye open, startling when he was met by a handsome man with thinning hair and a gun.

His first attempt at talking came out as a garbled mess, but his second attempt was better, “What the fuck man, who are you? Why do you have a gun?  Where’s Natasha?” He felt a sudden thrum of panic run through his body at the idea that this man might have hurt Nat.

“I’m the one asking questions here,” the guy said, his voice almost eerily calm.

“Fuck that! If you’ve hurt Nat, I’ll fucking kill you,” Clint growled back, wishing that he wasn’t quite so hungover and looked a bit more threatening.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, I don’t know anyone named Nat,” the man said, his voice taking on a suddenly soothing tone. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re sleeping on my couch, and how you got in?”

“Your couch?” Clint asked dumbly, distracted.  He looked around the room slowly, trying to keep his head from splitting again, and saw that he did not at all recognize the room he was in.  The couch that he sat on had an extraordinarily ugly beige, green, and orange floral design on it, and the walls were lined with tall bookcases stuffed full with books and DVDs.  There was a huge Captain America poster framed over the entertainment center, and a heavy wooden coffee table was sat in the middle of the floor.

“Your...couch,” Clint said again, slowly realizing what must have happened. “Aw, Clint, no.”  He buried his face in his hands for a second, and then remembered that the guy whose apartment he had apparently broken into was still in front of him with a gun.

“God, man, I am so sorry,” he said, wincing. “I came in through the window at like three.  It wasn’t locked, by the way.  I was super drunk and I thought this was my friend Natasha’s apartment, she lets me crash on her couch sometimes.  I swear I didn’t mean to.  I mean, I was kinda wondering when she got cats, but she’s kinda weird, you know?  Anyway, you want to put the gun down?”

The man startled, like he hadn’t realized that he was still holding the gun out in front of him.  He clicked on the safety and moved his suit jacket back to holster the gun, revealing a police badge clipped to his belt.

“Oh fuck,” Clint groaned. “Are you kidding me, I broke into a fucking cop’s apartment?”

“You did,” the man said, though he seemed more amused than anything else now. “Although I suppose it’s partially my fault for leaving the window unlatched.  I should know better than that.  You want some coffee?”

“Oh,” Clint said, surprised by the sudden change in attitude. “Actually, that would be really awesome.  You’re not totally pissed off?”

“Well, you didn’t hurt anything, and it was clearly an honest mistake.” The man headed to the kitchen and called over his shoulder, “Mostly I’m just annoyed that I didn’t even notice you were there until you started making noise.  It’s not every day I wake up with an attractive man in my apartment, after all.”

Clint realized for the first time that he was shirtless, and he tried really hard not to blush.  He wasn’t sure if it was at his partial nudity or the fact that the man had called him attractive, but either way he scooped his shirt up off the floor and pulled it over his head.  He returned with a NYU coffee mug in his hand, and Clint had to resist the urge to make grabby hands at it.  The coffee was hot and a little blacker than Clint usually preferred it, but he drank it as quickly as he could anyway.

“I’m Clint, by the way,” he offered when he’d drained half the mug. “Thanks for being so cool about my B&E.”

The man laughed, his blue eyes crinkling cutely at the corners. “No problem, I’m Phil.”

“I should probably figure out where I am,” Clint sighed, taking another long sip of coffee because he had nothing else to say.

Phil chuckled and tossed him a piece of mail from the coffee table, and for a moment Clint was confused.  Then he realized that Phil’s address was written on the front of the envelope, and he was relieved to find that he was actually in the right building.  In fact…

“Jeez, I must have miscounted the windows,” Clint told Phil, tossing the envelope back onto the table. “Nat lives right next door.”

Phil laughed again, harder this time, and Clint was torn between embarrassed indignation and delight at seeing that eye crinkle again.  He started picking at the laces of his shoes, trying to get them untied.

“So I guess I will go over to her place to sleep off my hangover and get out of your hair.” Clint drained the rest of his coffee and slid his feet half-assedly into his shoes because he still couldn’t get the laced untied.

“Yeah, I should be getting to work,” Phil sighed, glancing at his watch.

Phil took the coffee mug from his hands and lead him to the front door, even though the layout of the apartment was actually exactly the same as Natasha’s and Clint could have easily found it on his own.

“Anyway,” Clint said, hesitating awkwardly in the doorway.  He knew he should go, and that he had been rude enough already, but he was really reluctant to leave. “Thanks for the couch.”

“You’re welcome,” Phil said, and when he didn’t say anything else, Clint knew for sure he was being dismissed. He sent Phil a strained smile and stepped out into the hall, taking a minute to orient himself before he turned left to go to Natasha’s door.

“Clint!” Phil called quickly, like he thought Clint might disappear magically. “This might be really weird, and you’re under no obligation, but would you maybe want to get dinner some time?  With me?”

Clint felt a grin sliding over his face, and suddenly his headache seemed to hurt a little less. “You mean like a date?” he asked.

“I mean,” Phil confirmed, looking cutely earnest.

“I’d love that,” Clint admitted. “We can trade numbers?”

Phil fumbled quickly into his pocket and pulled out a Blackberry.  Clint offered his own phone over to Phil, and they quickly punched in their numbers before trading their phones back.  Clint was aware that they were smiling kinda goofily at each other in the middle of the hallway at eight in the morning, and he didn’t even care.

“I’ve really got to get to work,” Phil said finally, looking slightly pained. “But I’ll text you, or call you.”

“Whichever,” Clint agreed. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Me too.” Phil smiled at him for a long moment again, and then seemed to realize that he was really going to be late.  He cussed under his breath and then locked his front door and bid Clint farewell.  Clint watched him go like a besotted puppy until he disappeared down the stairs, and then he went over to pound on Natasha’s door until she let him in.

Not even her angry Russian cussing for waking her up or her refusal to let him borrow a pillow could ruin his mood.

 

 


End file.
